Midnight Terror
by Italian-Goil
Summary: New Kids hit New York and begin to terrorize the Manhattan newsies. Jack's missing, so it's up to the gang to pull things together, find Jack, and get everything worked out before it's too late! Spot, Race, Mush, Blink etc. R&R! (NON-SLASH)
1. Deep Thoughts

**Chappie 1: Deep Thoughts**

"So, we'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow." Jack smiled. "Oh and, hey, say ga'night to ya family for me."

"Will do." David whispered as he ducked under the windowsill, into his family's quiet apartment.

Everything was quiet that night as Jack slowly made his way back toward Kloppman's place. A soft, cool breeze stirred the curtains in upper windows as a lamp lighter went about his work and the distant sound of a mother singing an old Irish lullaby drifted through the air. Jack's foot caught on a tin can and he watched it bounce its way down the cobblestone street. Leaning against a street lamp he paused to light a cigarette, cupping his hands at his mouth as the match blazed to life. Sighing, he took one slow drag and looked up to the night sky.

"When's it _my _toin…?" He whispered.

With another soft sigh, he pushed himself away from the light and sauntered down the street. He was _so _close! Almost there…almost part of a _real _family. He and Sarah were serious about each other, and everyone knew it. Her parents even seemed to approve, but there was always that glimmer of doubt…Jack saw it in her fathers eyes every time he looked at Jack and Sarah together. He took another drag and erupted in a smoke laced, bitter laugh. Jack thought about it all the time.

"Who would wanna marry a newsie? What kinda life is dat for a goil…"

He knew it couldn't last forever. He needed more than a job, more than a lousy ten cents a day…he needed a career. Real work.

"Enough to support…a family."

Rubbing a hand across his tired eyes, Jack pulled his cowboy hat low on his brow, sat on the damp curb and let his thoughts roll. He couldn't stay a kid forever, and there would come a day when being a newsie was no longer an option. What about the boys? _His _boys…the Manhattan newsies…

Jack's head shot up from his hands and he leaped from the curb, straining his ears.

…Silence.

There it was again! A piercing cry, followed by laughter. Flinging his cigarette to the side, Jack ran into the darkness, his jaw set and fists clenched as he approached the fight. Someone was getting' soaked, and Jack was not in the mood…

_R&R please!!!!_


	2. Where's Jack?

**Chappie 2: Da Big Game**

"_BULLS_!"

Eighteen faces, all different colors, ages and backgrounds jerked up to stare at the door, stark fear etched on their faces.

"Hah, hah!!! You'se shoulda seen ya faces!!"

Snipeshooter grabbed a bedpost and ducked as caps, crumpled papes and whatever else was close at hand flew through the air. Still snickering he peeked around the corner and caught a cigar butt right in the face. Cheers erupted as Racetrack jumped up from his poker game, snatched the newsie cap from his dark curly hair, and took an elaborate bow. Fetching an ever-handy spare cigar from the inner pocket of his plaid vest, Race tucked it into the corner of his mouth with raised brows and a cocky grin.

"Soivs ya right, ya liddle bum." He laughed, as Snipeshooter rubbed his scowling face gingerly.

The laughs and comments slowly died down as all turned their attention to the game at hand. Most of the boys were standing or sitting in a circle around Race and Boots, and some were draped across top bunks, or hanging from the posts for a better view. No one had much, but the bets continued to grow as the game drew on.

"I'll uh…" Race shrugged and smiled. "I'll take two." He slapped two cards on the dirty floor, and scooped up his new hand.

"An da dealah takes one…" Boots murmured.

Race cocked one eyebrow and smirked around his unlit cigar.

"You'se ready ta end dis?" He smiled confidently.

"Just make yah bet, Race."

"Okay, okay!" Race shrugged. "'S your funeral…I'm up three."

"See and raise…five." Boots grinned slowly.

The room erupted in murmurs and whisperings as new bets were thrown around the room and several matches burst into flame. More than one was trying to calm his nerves with a quick nicotine fix.

"Hey, hey! Put dose out!" Blink pulled a hand from his pocket and snatched a cigarette from Bumlets mouth. "You know da rules…no smokin' inside. You'se want Kloppman to come in heah and break dis up?"

"Hey, shut 'cha mouths…let's jus finish dis, okay?" Race frowned around his cigar, adjusted his cap and dropped a nickel on the pile. "Spread limit Boots…lay 'em down."

"Sevens on tens…" Boots smirked and dropped his cards on the small pile of coins and cigarettes.

Race stared at the accusing numbers in disbelief, his mouth slowly dropping open.

The room was silent…

"Quads…kings ovah eight!"

Race shot his arms into the air and yelled in triumph. Groans and shouts of mixed emotions filled the boarding room as bets were paid and Race collected his pot.

"Someday Racetrack…someday…" Boots shook his head.

'Hey, where's Jack tonight?" Someone shot across the room as the guys prepared for sleep in their various ways.

"He's ovah at Davies tonight…" Mush grinned. "Or should I say, ovah at _Sarah'_s." His smirk turned to a frown. "…Didn't he say he was gonna play in da game tonight?…Hey Race, you don't think somethin' happe…"

"Awww, Jack's fine." Race frowned, dismissing Mush with a wave of his hand. "Jack can take care of hiself."

With a shrug Mush pulled himself onto his bunk.

"Sure…Jack's okay." Race whispered as he unlaced his shoes and swung his legs onto his own bed. Staring at the bed slats above him, he couldn't keep the thought from rolling through his tired mind, like smoke on a misty morning.

Jack had promised a game tonight at ten…it was almost one.

_Thanks Knots for my first review!!! I hope you like what comes next... :o)_

_R&R people!!!_

_-Italian-Goil_


	3. Can You Spell Pain?

(AN:

Time is a waste of life: _Thanks for the review! I'm glad you liked it…I'll try to keep up the balance. :o) Let me know if I let it slip!_

Katrina Van Huntington: _Jack's back! Let me know whatcha think of the latest installment! _

Arlene2: _Oooh…"future tension". :o) I hope I live up to your expectations! Thanks for the review!_

Jasmine Sparrow: _Would there be any chance thee be a relationto Cap'n. Jack Sparrow? (Sorry for sounding dumb if you're not :o) _

_I realize I messed up the time frame here…Jack's 3 hours late for the game…and still fighting? Just pretend this is a flashback. :o) _

Chappie: 3

Jack slid to a halt at the mouth of the shadowy alley.

"Hey!" He called.

There were three of them, each as tall as him, in their late teens. Two were obviously twins, each with hair so blond it was almost white, and pale, blue eyes that stared through you like cold, emotionless pools of color. And then there was Toby: Lynch, to any who feared or respected him, which were few, and none. To Jack and any other respectable newsie, he was simply Toby. He sported stringy, dark hair, and snapping, angry brown eyes. Jack's gaze darted to the ground between their legs as they turned to face him, surprise written on each face. A boy, no more than ten, lay crumpled on the filthy ground, hugging his middle with one arm, the other thrown across his face for protection.

"Y'know it's real brave…real brave whatchyou fellas is doin' heah."

Jack stood calm and relaxed, his voice gently taunting. Toby sauntered toward him, an ugly sneer on his thin lips.

"And whatchyouse gonna do about it Kelly? What, cha t'ink your gonna stop us?"

Jack shrugged and waited for him tighten the gap with one more step.

"Yeah…maybe."

Toby threw a hefty punch at Jack's open face, stumbling forward as Jack dodged and the strength of the swing pulled him off balance. Jack grabbed him roughly by his collar, pulling him close to his own face, and staring fiercely into his shocked brown eyes. As Toby struggled furiously, he could feel his two companions hesitate behind him.

"Nigel! Theo! What're ya standin' 'round for? Do somethin'!"

Jack shoved Toby forward, catching him at the last moment by the back of his collar. In the split second it took Toby to recognize the fear that tightened his throat, his face was slammed into the wall, and his fears quickly forgotten as the darkness closed in around him. Jack lunged at the other two, throwing a heavy punch at the closest twin and catching the bony knuckles of the other across his cheekbone. Turning quickly, he ducked, barely avoiding the pale fist that shot past his ear, and delivered a strong kick to Theo's (or was it Nigel's?) stomach. As one crumpled to the ground, gasping for air that refused to fill his empty lungs, his brother stood, staring in fury. The small, crying boy scrambled quickly out of the way, tucking himself between two broken crates as Jack slowly circled the silent twin, his fists raised and his eyes glowing.

The blond walked slowly around him, never taking his eyes from Jack's angry expression. Shifting slightly, Jack matched the thug's motions with his own 'till he stood facing his opponent, the open alley behind and to his left. He paused at the malicious gleam that shone from his rival's eyes.

With a start, Jack realized his back was open, unprotected, and spun just as the pale, seemingly skeletal fist of the other twin filled his vision and sent pain shooting through his face, tearing all rational thought from his mind.

He spun, pressing his left shoulder to the clammy brick wall. Nigel's fist connected with his stomach, and, partly by instinct, but mostly in pain, he dropped to his knees as Theo's fist slammed into the wall where his head had rested. Ignoring the strangled cry of pain that escaped his adversary's lips Jack grabbed his dirty shirtfront and swung him into his brother. Wasting no time, he proceeded to pummel each in his turn; 'til the sounds of deep, steady breathing assured him that the fight was over.

Jack stood over the insensible thugs, his dark eyes slowly taking in what remained of the fight. The boy sat shivering in the corner, his arms wrapped around his legs, his knees tucked under his quivering chin.

"Hey…you okay? Come on ovah heah."

Wincing from his numerous bruises and scrapes, the boy stood and stepped around the broken crates, knocking slats of wood onto the muddy ground. Jack bent down to eye level with the boy and put his strong hand on the little shoulder.

"You got a place ta stay tanight? Look, I know dis great guy, Kloppman, he'll getcha some food, clothes, whatevah you need. Foist night's free."

The boy ignored Jack's words, his eyes hopeful.

"…He called you Kelly… _Jack _Kelly?" He whispered.

Jack adjusted the bandana around his neck and seemed to give the question serious thought.

"Dat depends on who's askin'." Jack grinned. "You can call me Cowboy." He spit on his palm and thrust it toward the boy.

"So whaddahdey call you?"

"Tommy…only listen, I gotta tell you somethin'!" Tommy's eyes shone with a mix of fear and excitement, trembling as he rushed to explain.

"There's dese new guys, see? An' they've got dis plan, an it's big! Real big! An' I hoid it's gonna be tough on all da newsies, 'Hattan, Queens, even Brooklyn, you name it! An' dey's got a meetin', settin' everything up an all, and ya gotta do somethin' 'bout it! Spot Conlon's sendin' woid out ta all da newsies, and he sent me ta find ya, so ya gotta liste…!"

"Hey, hey hold on, wait a minute. Spot Conlon sentchyou? Alone?"

Tommy's gaze faltered.

"Well…uh, not exactly…see, I was supposed to pass da message to me bruddah, Shadow…"

Jack's brow lifted in surprise.

"You'se Shadow's kid bruddah?"

"Yeah…an he was supposed ta tell ya 'bout da new gang…only…only I nevah gave him the message. I…I've nevah been anywhere outside ah Brooklyn, nevah done anything important…an I wanted to meet _you_…_Jack Kelly_." Tommy practically whispered the name in awe and admiration.

"Ah, yes…Jack Kelly…"

A deep, crisp voice filled the air around them. Turning in surprise, Jack and Tommy stared at the dark figures outlined in the entrance of the alley's mouth. One was unremarkable; just another dark haired lout much like Toby, only shorter and, if possible, uglier. Another was squat and broad shouldered with meaty hands and a nose so crooked, it was obvious he was a veteran fighter, despite his young age. Ignoring them as they attempted to rouse their comatose companions, Jack stared at the third man…a dark, irrepressible feeling of familiarity stirring the depths of his memory. That deep voice, lightly tinged with a British inflection, spoke lightly.

"Was this absolutely necess'ry?" He spread his hands in a wide scope, encasing his dank surroundings with a mocking gesture.

"You've nearly killed Toby _and _Nigel, and I doubt Theo's hand will ever heal properly. I can see you're not going to make this easy…"

Jack's eyes narrowed as he tucked Tommy behind his back. With another airy sigh, the tall, mysterious man motioned toward his goons as he turned his back on them all.

"I don't care what you do to the boy…" He called over his shoulder, not noticing Jack's smoldering stare. "…but I want Kelly well alive!" He ordered as he disappeared into the night and his henchmen closed in round Jack and Tommy.

Jack lifted his fists as his two new opponents approached him from either side. The gangster with the dark hair swung first. Jack ducked, dodging the quick right hook, and threw his tight fist into the unprotected stomach. Even in the dimly lit alley, Jack could see the boys face pale and eyes widen as the air was pushed from his lungs.

The man with the crooked nose silently raised a slat of wood and swung it at the side of Jack's face. There was a sharp _**crack!**_ as Jack's world exploded in white pain and blinding colors that flashed before his eyes. With a yell he threw himself toward the thug, following him to the ground. Nearly frantic, Jack grasped the man's shirtfront and threw a punch where he imagined the ugly face to be. His knuckles barely grazed the man's cheek before slamming into the stony ground, and it was in that moment of searing pain that Jack knew.

_**He could not see.**_

Somewhere behind him Jack heard Tommy's muffled shrieks. He jerked his head toward the sound, his brown eyes wide and void, and his smooth features pale with fear. The strong blow to his jaw sent him reeling. In a daze, he felt himself being lifted by his vest by one immense fist. Somewhere in the back of his wandering mind Jack realized that Tommy was no longer crying. There was one, final blow…he heard a gasp of pain, never realizing it was his own, as his head snapped back and his mind was plunged into an overpowering darkness.

_Mwahahahah!!!! Lol_

_R&R!!! Let me know what you thought. :o)_

_-Italian-Goil_


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